


Mourning Comes

by callmeonetrack



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, pre-mini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeonetrack/pseuds/callmeonetrack
Summary: After Zak is gone, Kara needs to forget and Lee can't say no to her.





	

It’s nearly dawn and Lee’s still numb. He can’t even feel the cracked leather of Kara’s beat-up sofa under his back as he stares at her ceiling unblinking, wondering why, blaming his father and himself (though not quite in equal measure), and hearing the quiet noises of distress in the next room. Grief renders him powerless and he doesn’t like it.

It’s only thanks to the copious quantities of alcohol they’d consumed earlier that Lee finally manages to slide into a semblance of sleep, when he suddenly feels a heavy weight against his legs. His eyes open but he already knows who it is pressing her body to his, whose lips are sliding desperately against his mouth. He opens to say her name, to protest, but she slides her tongue into him and pleasure blooms where there’s only been pain. Without will, his arms encircle her, palms sliding down over sinuous curves unclothed, and he realizes this is more than he thought it was, not something they will be able to explain away later as a brief clutch at comfort in a time of need. She is naked and intentful and it’s enough to bring him to his senses.

He pulls back, hands reaching for her face above him. Her cheeks are still wet. “Kara, we can’t. We can’t.” No other words will come past the simple protestation, but Lee is swept with déjà vu suddenly, because he’s said this, if only to himself, so many times before, and he thinks it should be different now because Zak’s dead ( _Zak’s dead_ ), and everything ( _we can’t)_ should be different now…

But it’s not.

Because he still wants her more than anything ever ( _especially now_ ) and his body still responds accordingly. To the silky brush of her hair against the back of his fingers, to the way her knees dig against his hips, to the heat of her groin, to her calloused hands splayed on his bare chest, to the soft flutters of her lips against his cheek, jaw, temple, eyelids. Her body clings, but her mouth is surprisingly gentle and in between each butterfly kiss, she’s whispering, her voice hoarse and broken, _please, Lee, please, please,_ and he’s never heard her say that word before and he’s never heard it with his name attached, and it’s too much. It’s drowning out the loop in his head _Zak’s dead, we can’t, Zak’s dead, we can’t_ , so he starts to say it out loud. “Zak’s dead.”

Her face twists with pain just inches above his in the dark and her hands tighten, nails biting into his chest, and she leans closer, her breath stuttering over his skin, her voice a tortured hiss. “I keep seeing him crash every time I close my eyes. It’s all m….” The words trail away on a sob and his throat tightens, tears pricking again at his own eyes. “I can’t… I need… _please._ " She’s shaking in his arms, violent tremors that he tries to crush by tightening his grasp, pulling her closer. Her forehead tilts to his, the tip of her nose pressing into his cheek, her words streaming between his parted lips. “I need to forget, just tonight, just for a little while. Please, Lee. Make me forget.”

It’s horrible and it’s wrong and he needs it too. Just tonight. Just for a little while. Just this once. This is how he justifies opening his mouth to her, the way his hands slide lower on her body, thumbs tracing the soft skin on the back of her thighs. Their kisses now are pure heat and desperation, as if she knew the gentleness of before was the only way to prompt his surrender, but Lee doesn’t mind because it banishes the numbness. He can feel this. He wants to feel this.

Lee slides a hand between them, wanting her immediately but having enough wits about him still to make sure Kara’s ready. They’re already hurting; he doesn’t want this to be about hurting each other. His fingers sink easily inside slick folds though, and Kara whimpers against his neck, scrapes his shoulder with her teeth as he crooks up into her, presses his thumb against her clit. She rears back, hands braced on his body, eyes screwed tightly shut but mouth open as she bucks, riding his hand. Lee’s transfixed for a moment, watching her face, dark pride gathering at the knowledge that he’s the one making her feel this.

Pleasure and pain. They don’t really look much different from this angle.

Kara cries out with a sharp gasp, and wraps her fingers around his wrist tugging. He pulls his hand from between her thighs while hers are already slipping under the waistband of his shorts. She sits back, rising onto her knees and he lifts his hips, lets her tug the clothing off his body, then settle astride him again.

Lee knows how much she loved his brother, can only hope she feels a fraction of that for him, that that’s what made her call him tonight, what made her come to him now instead of some faceless stranger. He lets her press him down, but when she moves over him, his hands settle on the curve of her hips, fingers sinking into the flesh to arrest her movement as he breathes her name. It sounds almost like a question and Lee isn’t even sure what he’s asking, but she looks at him, wild eyes shining in the darkness, and raises a hand, resting it against the curve of his jaw. Kara says his name, and his grip loosens, content in the knowledge that even if she’s thinking of his brother, she knows who she’s with right now.

Then she sinks down on him, taking him inside her with a sibilant hiss. His eyes close and he pushes everything aside but the feeling of her tight around him. His hands roam her skin and his hips tilt up, jutting against her thighs, as she arches and slides and rocks into him, sparks of pleasure shooting through him with every shift. He reaches up and pulls her down, wanting to feel the length of her body against him before it’s over. Lee wants it to last forever almost as much as he wants the blessed oblivion it will bring. But Kara’s already crying out again, strong muscles squeezing around him as he thrusts a little harder, a little deeper, until she tenses and shudders, breaking around him. He grips her ass, pushes up hard and lets himself go, relief spilling out as he comes, losing himself in the white-hot rush of bliss.

When his heart stops pounding and his head clears, Lee realizes Kara is already asleep on his chest. He listens to her even breathing, lets it lull him under. He doesn’t think of how long he’s wanted this. He doesn’t think of his brother. He doesn’t think of what will happen tomorrow. He doesn’t think.

Later, in the full morning light, Lee wakes up alone, skin cool where her warmth was coiled, but he’s no longer numb. He feels her absence too sharply, almost as much as his brother’s, and he wonders if he’s lost them both now. Briefly, vainly, he hopes last night made her forget.

He knows he’ll always remember.


End file.
